


It is midnight, somewhere

by Nalyra



Series: Of Lambs and Lions [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, M/M, Murder Husbands, New Year's Eve, New York City, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: After the fall recuperation has been a long process. In order to have a feast, one must be dressed properly.____________________This is a gift for bae-wolf on tumblr, who mentioned she liked the little 'slice of life'-pieces and this just... dropped into my mind :).Well here is one, with a first kiss thrown in^^. I hope you like it!!Also, I have only recently become aware of the fact that Hugh and Janice had dropped hints of Hannibal in a wheelchair at the dinner at Bedelias so this is 'why' :). And - please be gentle, english is not my first language.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenofLit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofLit/gifts).



The wheels of the wheelchair make a slight crunching sound in the freshly fallen snow, not yet trampled to mud on the pavement even though so many people are hurrying past them, this town always on the run, never sleeping, especially not in the afternoon before new years eve. 

Will inhales deeply and raises his face, eyes closing for a moment mid step, two snow flakes settling on his left cheek and melting, leaving the impression of purity behind. His hands tighten on the handles of the wheelchair for a moment, the leather of his gloves creaking before he relaxes his hands again, a mother and her child running past them, both laughing, faces turned to each other while making their hurry a game, vibrantly alive in a snapshot of life. There is a soft pressure on his left hand and Will smiles softly, feeling Hannibals gloved fingers glide off of his hand again, the position probably way too painful to maintain even now. 

Will sighs softly through his nose, eyes carefully scanning the crowds around them, the people mostly ignoring them, leaving them in a bubble of reality of their own making. He smirks when a snowflake settles on the tip of his nose, his voice carrying a dreamlike quality, slightly muffled by the shawl around his neck and lower face.

„I still don’t quite understand why we have to go shopping for suits today, but … I’m glad we are.“

Hannibal chuckles softly, reaching up again to squeeze Wills fingers for a moment before answering, his voice a low rumble.

„Today is the day I would assume that -they- will not have enough man power to keep the surveillance up… if they keep it up at all.“

There is a brief silence and Will keeps their measured steps, flowing with the crowd as much as possible. He turns after the next block, the crowd thins and Will slows slightly, relaxing minutely, finally breaking the companionable silence with a hum. 

„You know, when I dragged you ashore and we… eloped together, I never thought we would come to New York of all places.“

Will can see Hannibal tilt his head slightly, the grandfather hat shifting. 

„We were in no condition to go far as you know. This city holds the capacity to obfuscate our presence by sheer magnitude. And besides…“

There is a small pause and Wills eyes narrow in amused suspicion, a wry smirk playing around his lips, waiting patiently for Hannibal to finish the thought.

„And besides, it is where… our New Years dinner awaits.“

Wills eyes narrow further, the tip of his tongue touching his left canine for a moment, thoughts racing. His mouth drops open with a small exhale when it clicks, the vicious grin spreading, coloring his tone.

„Ahh, you’re vicious.“

Another tilt of that hat.

„Are you not hungry, Will?“

Will breathes the word into the cold air, breath visible in a dense cloud for a moment, disappearing in the suns last rays.

„Starving.“

 

______________________

 

The door jingles when Will opens it and he spares a thought for another door so long ago with a bell like this. He turns slightly and shoots a look at Hannibal, remembering, catching the knowing look in Hannibals eyes. Will clicks his tongue, worrying his lip with his teeth for a moment.

„Did I pass your test back then? Even though I didn’t kill Tobias Budge?“

Hannibal purses his lips, eyes twinkling in the low light, saved from answering when a small man appears from the other side of the shop, his annoyed voice ringing out to them.

„Would you gentlemen please close the door. It’s cold outside as you may have noticed.“

Will raises his eyebrows, catching the small twitch in Hannibals expression before he turns back around, composing his face into a mask of geniality. He holds out his hand, offering it to the frail looking man, smiling pleasantly, switching personalities with hardly any effort.

„Will Borrowly, Mr. Sardo. Please accept our apologies. My… partner is recuperating from an accident and I was wondering if there was another entrance to your shop? We are in dire need of acceptable attire for tonights dinner and unfortunately our suitcases have been lost at the airport. We would be most relieved if you could help us.“

The man huffs but relaxes a bit, gesticulating at the old house the little shop is in, indicating the front.

„I’m sorry, Mr. Borrowly. There is no other entrance. And I’m afraid the wheelchair will not fit.“

Will smirks a bit self deprecatingly, sarcasm stealing into his tone.

„Ah, very well then Mr. Sardo. I will carry him inside then if that is alright with you.“

The man shrugs and then waves at Hannibal, looking way to pleased with himself sitting there. 

„Do you need help?“

Will smiles once more, teeth flashing.

„No thank you. We will be with you shortly.“

Mr. Sardo shrugs again and then turns and disappears in the back of his shop again and Will watches him go for a moment before turning to Hannibal, who is not even trying to hide the small grin that tugs at his mouth. Will smirks and then steps up to him, kicking the wheelchairs breaks down, his voice low.

„So, how many tailors in New York City sufficient for your standards are not accessible by wheelchair?“

Hannibal pulls the blanket away and folds it carefully before answering, his voice hinting on smugness.

„Three that I am aware of. This one was closest.“

Will snorts, foregoing a direct answer.

„Mh hmmm.“

Will bends down slightly, his lips close to Hannibals ear. 

„You could’ve just asked you know.“

Hannibal turns his face even closer, whispering, breath puffing against Wills ear, sending goosebumps down his spine.

„Now, where would be the fun in that?“

Will draws back for a moment until he can lock gazes with Hannibal, watching as the red is slowly eclipsed by black, an effect he seems to have each time he is this close to Hannibal, tested and tried by now, exhilarating in power. He licks his lips, sees as Hannibals gaze flickers down and back up, unable to stop himself. He grins, irreverently letting Hannibal know that he knows, expecting the words, almost inaudible in the air between them.

„Vicious boy.“

Will chuckles and then takes the blanket, putting it over the handles, voice carrying his amusement.

„I’m not -that- much younger, Hannibal. Will you ever stop calling me boy?“

Hannibal smirks and Will bends down, his right arm going under Hannibals legs at knee-bend, his left arm under Hannibals right arm and around his back. Hannibal locks his arms around Wills shoulders, hands burning on Wills neck and Will lifts him with a small grunt, pausing to gather his balance, annoyance stealing into his tone.

„Christ, you’re still way too light.“

The hand in his neck squeezes softly once in acknowledgement and Will strengthens his hold and then descends the stairs with careful steps, turning and edging along corners in the small hallway, trying and failing to contain his worry, the both of them way too attuned by now, Hannibals eyes boring silently into his skull.

Will carefully maneuvers through the shop, cloth and suits on racks everywhere, the owner calling to them that he is getting his measuring equipment. Will puts Hannibal down into an armchair in the back, carefully tracing the padding of the wound dressing when he lets go, and Hannibal catches his hand when he straightens back up, silently assuring.

„Lots of calories in tonights feast, Will. We are here, you can finally speak again and my strength will return.“

Will closes his eyes for a moment against the sudden pain, so carefully locked away the last few months, opening them again when Hannibal squeezes his hand again, whispering.

„And when it has, I will… show you the world.“

It’s not a conscious decision. 

It’s simply the last straw somehow, the inherent forgiveness in Hannibals voice breaking the proverbial camels back, reality crashing back when their lips meet, and Will shudders, his hand flying up to grip Hannibals jaw, electricity running through him. He exhales shakily through his nose, eyes crunched closed, their lips still pressing, close mouthed and chaste, the air carrying the moan he tries to contain. He can feel Hannibals answering hum under his fingers, traveling through him and into him, his lips parting on instinct, slotting together now more naturally, softly gliding, sending shivers everywhere, instant arousal like a punch into the stomach. 

Will breaks the kiss after a moment, resting his forehead for a second against Hannibals before pulling away, his hand tracing Hannibals jaw while falling away, eyes still closed when he takes a step back. He licks his lips and then opens them, flayed wide open by the burning look in Hannibals eyes, no mask obscuring the wild hunger there, looking undone. Will jerks and turns away slightly when the shop owner returns from the back of the shop, hesitating when he steps up to them, irritated by the weird atmosphere. 

Will composes himself, more difficult than before but still done with almost no effort now, geniality descending on his features, before he turns again.

„Mr. Sardo, please let me express my gratitude to serve our needs at this late an hour. Would you please be so kind as to take our measurements and fit us with suits that can be adapted to fit as good as possible within two hours?“

Mr. Sardo nods, a bit jerkily, and Will steps closer again, indicating Hannibal with a small wave of his hand.

„Please, start with my partner. I will assist.“

Will bends down and gently pulls Hannibal up, carefully holding him up while the tailor takes the measurements, concentrating on keeping their balance instead on the feeling of sinews and bone under his hands, their recuperation period having taken it’s toll. His eyes flit over to his own hand, still rather sinewy as well, the first weeks after the fall having been so very difficult to digest food. He carefully lowers Hannibal again when the tailor steps back finally, watching with a frown how a small drop of sweat rolls down Hannibals temple. He steps back and then takes his coat off, carefully following the tailors instructions in an almost dance, feeling Hannibals eyes on him like a lead weight, keeping his own eyes on the rack of suits just beyond Mr. Sardo. 

When it is over, the tailor disappears into the back of his shop again, calling out to them to wait for a moment. Will silently puts his coat on again, concentrating hard on the movements, only stopping and dropping his hands when Hannibals voice reaches him, breathed and breathless.

„Will.“

He looks up and finally locks gazes with Hannibal again, feels the thrum of excitement run through them both. Hannibal holds out his hand and Will swallows and then steps forward and takes it, the skin burning where they touch.  
Hannibal pulls gently and Will bends down, eyes closing of their own accord. Hannibal tilts his head up and breathes the next words against Wills mouth, voice a rumble that crumbles Wills last defenses.

„I was under the impression new years kisses were given at midnight.“

Will huffs a laugh, swallowing against the feeling of heat so close to his skin, voice almost inaudible.

„I bet it’s midnight somewhere.“

He feels more than hears Hannibals chuckle, his voice almost inaudible.

„I would think it is midnight again. Somewhere.“

There is a soft tug again and Will lets himself really fall into the kiss this time, almost instantly an open kiss, lips gliding freely. The first touch of Hannibals tongue makes Wills knees buckle, a deep moan ripping free and then Hannibals hand is in his hair, gripping and holding, and the kiss turns messy suddenly, instinctual and deep, teeth clashing. Hannibal pulls Will away after long seconds and then bites at his upper lip once, making Will hiss before he releases him, their panted breaths still mingling.

Mr. Sardo chooses this moment to reappear, carrying various suits this time, and Will watches in a strange detachment as Hannibal chooses the two to be adapted, easily maneuvering the different nomenclature. Hannibal shakes the tailors hand and smiles at Will and Will realizes with a start that they are waiting for him and so he smiles and nods, feeling slightly out of body, Hannibals voice calling him back.

„Would you carry me back outside, Will? We will return in two hours, when Mr. Sardo has adapted our suits. I believe we can comfortably shop for groceries for tonight in the meantime.“

Will nods again, stepping up to Hannibal with a polite smile, easily picking him up this time, his stomach in flips and little somersaults when Hannibals breath ghosts across his lips. He turns, nods at Mr. Sardo and then retraces their steps outside, carefully putting Hannibal back down into the wheelchair there, both relieved and weirdly disappointed at the fact it has not been stolen in the meantime. He hesitates and then unfolds the blanket, putting it over Hannibals legs carefully, feeling Hannibal watch him silently, intently. He raises his eyes to Hannibals, watches the pupils dilate once more and grins suddenly, his stomach flipping again when the grin is echoed. He smoothes a nonexistent wrinkle from the blanket, his voice soft.

„And now? Where to now?“

Hannibal smiles at him, teeth flashing for an instant.

„Would you be amendable with something simple as the future?“

Will snorts, straightening up and stepping behind the wheelchair, loosening the breaks, his hands gripping the handles before he smirks and bends down, voice laced with dark humor.

„Nothing simple about that, Hannibal. After all, it’s -our- future.“

Hannibal tilts his head, locking gazes with Will from the corner of his eyes, his voice almost inaudible and yet scorching, promising.

„Yes, mylimasis. Our future.“

Will swallows, echoing the breathlessness.

„Alright. Let’s go then….“

He straightens back up, raising his face up into the falling snow, to the moon just about visible between the buildings in the now dark sky.

„After all, we need some champagne for midnight, don’t we.“

Hannibal reaches up and squeezes his left hand again and Will smiles, snowflakes melting on his eyelashes, obscuring his vision.

„Indeed.“

**Author's Note:**

> ______________________
> 
> I very much hope you like(d) it and would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> I hope you have a fantastic 2017 and a great new years party!  
> *hugs*


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